


Our Mutual Friend, Richard

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Best Friends, Canon Relationships, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, HP: Epilogue Compliant, M/M, Male Friendship, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Sexual Experimentation, Underage Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started off an accident, soon becomes the one constant thread throughout their friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RZZMG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/gifts).



> Written for the [HP Kink Fest](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/).

As with every danger chased in Ron’s life, Harry was the one to start it. And as usual, it started with him completely unaware he was doing anything of the sort. It was dark, he couldn’t sleep and unlike in the Hogwarts dorms, he was _nearly_ alone. Near enough, anyway. It was only Harry. Certainly as alone as he was going to get for the rest of the year. 

Eyes firmly closed, Ron listened for any sound in the house that might have deterred him. A change in Harry’s breathing, a creak on the stairs, the ghoul shifting in the attic. But there wasn’t a sound. Everybody was too busy getting a good night’s sleep before the Quiddich World Cup. Everybody but him. It was like Christmas Eve all over again. The harder he tried, the more restless he got until he could only think of one solution.

Turning on his side, away from Harry, just in case, Ron slipped his hands under the covers. With a good few years of practice, making sure Fred and George weren’t spying on him, he’d learned how to breathe evenly, how to swallow down every noise and how to move slowly enough to give nothing away.

Keeping his mind on Harry’s every movement, guessing what was him turning in his sleep, what was him talking nonsense and what could possibly be him waking up, Ron’s thoughts started to wander. Had any of them done this back at Hogwarts, while he was sleeping? Seamus, maybe, Dean? Harry?

He knew it would be hypocritical of him to hold that against them and he was sure that’s why the idea didn’t strike him as wrong, or even something he didn’t want to think about. In fact, he really rather wanted to think about it. How did they get away with it? How did their hearts not nearly give out with worry that someone would find out? Did they have a code? Were they all in on it?

Ron rolled over onto his back, his first instinct to wake Harry and ask him outright but reason caught him before he opened his mouth, hand still lazily stroking his cock as it took a backseat to what was really keeping him awake now.

There were a lot of things they simply couldn’t acknowledge, sharing a dorm. Which names they said in their sleep. Whose sheets came off in a hurry while everyone else was still dozing. Whose covers had slipped, revealing their morning predicament. And now one more to add to the pile, how many more of them might be wanking secretly in the middle of the night to avoid such embarrassments.

He could imagine it now, as much as his brain told him that was the last thing he should be thinking about. He could see silhouettes in the bed curtains, hear laboured breaths from across the room, the steady sound of skin against skin.

Swallowing, he realised those were all sounds he was making. Subtlety going out of the window, he forced his thoughts to what could happen in the girl’s dorms as he sped up his hand. The quicker he came, the quicker he could forget all about this ever happening.

His mind a mixed mess of masturbation, he finally felt his hand shake on his cock, his body tense. Reaching blindly for the tissues on his bedside cabinet, his gaze landed back on Harry. As their eyes connected, Ron realised everything he’d thought he’d seen and heard wasn’t just down to bad timing of his questioning imagination. Caught like a rabbit in the headlights, he couldn’t stop himself from looking. He couldn’t take his eyes off the frenzied motion under Harry’s sheets that could only be one thing. He couldn’t help but notice Harry’s line of sight being exactly the same. And no matter what he thought, he couldn’t stop himself from coming.

For a moment in the darkness, nothing was said. Ron pretended he hadn’t seen anything even though he was sweating and his heart was still thumping like that time he’d walked into his parents’ room without knocking. Unable to think of anything else to do or say, he pulled a tissue from the packet with trembling hands.

“Ron?” Harry asked from across the room.

For a second he wasn’t going to answer but neither of them could pretend to be asleep now so instead, he did his best to sound normal. “Yes, Harry?”

“Can I...?” Harry looked at the tissues and Ron looked at them too, as if noticing for the first time they were in his hands.

“Sure, mate,” Ron said, throwing him the whole packet before rolling back over. “G’night.”

“Night.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, he couldn’t sleep either. The tent was too hot. Outside, the air was filled with chatter and excitement. He was still on a high from watching the match and he still hadn’t quite processed the night before. They’d been woken so early and rushed out of the house so quickly that he’d completely forgotten all about it until he caught Harry’s eye on the walk. He could have even considered it was a really weird dream had Harry not rivalled him for chronically red cheeks. 

He’d still not said anything though. He couldn’t. Not with Hermione there or Fred and George or his dad. But now, in the quiet of their side of the tent, he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Harry?”

A sound came from the bunk below him and he followed up his attempt at waking Harry with a very nonchalant. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Harry replied, sleep making his voice sound faint and strained.

“Alright, never mind,” Ron said, rolling onto his front so he could lean over the bars and look down. It was true, Harry’s eyes were closed and this time, neither of his hands were moving. Waking him up now would be a lot less embarrassing than talking to him on the way home.

“Harry, wake up. I wanted to ask something.”

“I said no, Ron,” Harry replied keeping his eyes closed.

“I didn’t ask yet,” Ron said, a little put out. He’d almost go so far as to say it hurt his feelings but then that would mean examining how he actually felt about last night.

“You were going to ask if it’s weird, what happened before, right?” Harry asked, opening one eye and then closing it again quickly.

“No, I wasn’t,” Ron lied, frowning. “Why, do you think it’s weird?”

“I just said I didn’t,” Harry said, finally giving in and looking at him. 

Ron couldn’t help but notice he was flustered. Probably embarrassed. He did think it was weird.

“It doesn’t mean anything, though, does it? Like, you’re still my best friend,” Ron said, not sure if he was trying to convince Harry or himself.

“It happens all the time, it’s fine,” Harry assured him.

“Limey buggers, they could have told me. I knew it, I was thinking last night, Seamus for sure,” Ron said, relief making him babble.

“No, I meant, it happens in general. I don’t know, Dudley was joking. He said... it doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me,”

Harry sighed, as if against his better judgement. “He said that at Smeltings, they all do _that_ together. In a circle. On a biscuit. I’m sure he was having me on.”

Ron fell onto his back, wide eyes staring up at the tent. “Bloody Hell.”

After a few seconds of trying to wrap his head around that while simultaneously wondering about any time one of the boys had offered him snacks of any sort, he felt the bed beneath him move.

“Ron?” Harry asked. “What were you going to say then?”

Ron frowned for a moment. He was going to ask if it was weird, if he should apologise or feel bad for looking or doing it in the first place. He was even going to ask if they should never speak of it again but now, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. Harry thought it was normal. Harry had talked to other people about it. There were baked goods involved. It was all alright.

“Did you fancy doing it again sometime?”

The silence was thick as Ron waited for an answer. He didn’t want to tell Harry that him seeing, and seeing him, had made it so much better in case that was weird. But Harry was his best friend, he could barely remember a time when he didn’t want to share everything with him. He opened his mouth to say something of the sort but Harry beat him to it.

“Yeah, alright.”

Ron smiled up at the tent roof. The chatter had died down and he felt now, he could finally sleep, having put the elephant between them to rest. “Brilliant. Night, Harry.”

“Night, Ron.”


	3. Chapter 3

At first it was easy. Sharing a room, all it took was for the lights to go out and it would be on at least one of their minds. The rest of the summer passed with hushed words and pointed looks but it didn’t go unnoticed. Even Hermione started giving them funny looks when they stared at each other from across the room for too long.

“We need a plan,” Ron said one night, still fiddling with the drawstrings on his pyjama bottoms under the cover. Harry had started without him but he was too preoccupied to give him or himself the attention they both deserved. “Harry?”

“What?” Harry asked distractedly, his hand slowing but not altogether stopping.

“I said, we need a plan for this,” Ron tried again. “Hermione knows something is up.”

“Mmmhmm,” Harry agreed. “Plan, right.”

“Harry,” Ron said more firmly, pushing back his covers.

He saw Harry swallow, his face flushing as the movement beneath his duvet sped up again. “God, I thought you were... Never mind.”

“I will in a minute.” Ron sat up, legs dangling off his bed. He didn’t want to ask what it meant that Harry thought he might actually expose himself or that it seemed to up the stakes for him. He needed to know they had this sorted out before he could set his thoughts aside and lose himself in his own touch, in watching Harry touch himself. “Look, just something simple, so we can tell each other without letting on to the others.”

“Alright,” Harry gave in, his hand emerging from under the covers. Ron’s eyes darted back and forth from that hand to Harry’s face, unable to settle.

“Something simple,” Ron continued. “But memorable.”

“What about Rosie Palmer?” Harry asked. “Something I heard Seamus call it.”

“Why?” Ron asked frowning until Harry held up his hand, palm up, giving Ron an excuse to stare at it again. “Oh. No. If he figures it out, he’ll want in.”

It wasn’t that Seamus wasn’t a good mate. They all were. But Ron wanted this to stay between him and Harry. Not just because the others might not _get it_ but because it was nice, to have something just between them that didn’t involve nearly dying.

“What about Merlin’s staff. I mean, just slip it into conversation like you’ve forgotten something, like _Merlin’s beard_ only Merlin’s-”

Harry shook his head, cutting him off before he could say it again. “No. Even the first years will see through that. I think... no, never mind.”

“What?” Ron asked. “It can’t be any sillier than Merlin’s staff.”

“Richard.” Harry gestured with both hands, like he was actually putting the name between them.

“I don’t get it,” Ron said after a moment of Harry watching him expectantly.

“My Aunt Marge, she had all these bulldogs. One was called Richard but she used to call it _little_... Actually that’s not important. My point is, what’s a shortening for Richard?”

“Dick!” Ron said a little bit too enthusiastically. “I mean, is it? I’ve not noticed.”

“Simple but memorable. Happy?” Harry asked, hand slipping back under with a pointed look.

“Bloody brilliant. Hold on,” Ron said, turning to return to the privacy of his covers.

“Ron?” Harry asked, stopping him in his tracks. “Would you, if it’s not too weird that is, would you stay there?”

Ron shrugged, sitting back on his bedspread so his feet were off the floor. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ron didn’t know what made him think it, let alone how he let the words creep up and escape but nonetheless, he heard himself say, “I will if you will.”

Harry bit his lip and for a second, the tension seemed to turn the air to water, deadly to breathe in. But then Harry pushed his own covers away and Ron let out a breath. Just like that, a line had been crossed that he couldn’t take back. And that line was Harry’s cock, half hard and still rising, until it stood bold as anything, a definite line.

With clammy hands, Ron reached for his own trousers, pushing them down to his knees. He tried to tell himself he’d run around this house naked more times than he could count but he couldn’t fight the fear that came with such a risk. It felt like there were a hundred eyes on him as he felt the warmth of his hand on his cock. But there was only one person watching. Only Harry. Harry who dressed next to him every morning for three years. He breathed a bit easier when their eyes connected, both of their cheeks red but their eyes unable to tear away from each other except for the odd stolen glance downwards. It was just Harry, just Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

As August drew to a close, it became harder and harder to snatch a moment. As always, there were just too many other things to worry about. School books, robe adjustments, trying to guess which room Harry was in by which one Ginny carefully sidestepped before she’d brushed her hair and teeth. Before Ron knew it, they were being crammed into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, having spent rather a long time crammed in a car. They’d barely pulled out of King’s Cross before Ron turned to Harry.

“So...” he started, glancing to Hermione before deciding she was far enough into her book to not notice chit-chat. “That cousin of mine we talked about, Richard. He was asking after you.”

“Who?” Harry frowned before remembering what they had talked about. His eyes darted to Hermione and then back to glare at Ron. “Oh. Well, I’m sure he can wait until we’re at Hogwarts.”

“I’m not sure he can,” Ron admitted, trying his best to sound casual, not like he’d been looking forward to a moment alone – or alone with Harry at least – all day. Later, at the castle, they’d all be too full and too exhausted to every raise their heads off their pillows, let alone work out how to knock a quick one off the wrist together without any of their dorm mates noticing. This was the best chance they were going to get.

“Besides,” Harry said, tone surer, louder, purposely drawing Hermione’s attention. “Hadn’t we better get changed?”

Hermione looked up from her book, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “We’ve barely left London, there’s plenty of time, Harry.”

“I know, I just wanted to get changed now,” Harry tried, looking at Ron for a better excuse.

“Better to get it done quickly, get it off our minds, right Harry?”

“Right,” Harry nodded quickly.

Hermione sighed and snapped her book shut. “Fine. I’ll go check on Ginny. I said I’d lend her my spare copy of Spellman's Syllabary anyway. Excuse me, Ron.”

Before he knew it, she was standing over him, reaching above his head for her trunk. The hem of her top didn’t quite reach the waist of her jeans anymore and between the two colours there was a pale, smooth strip of skin that was altogether unexpected. Before he could move or formulate a plan for why he was staring straight into her navel, she had turned, disappearing out of their carriage faster than words could fall out of his mouth, which was no doubt a good thing.

“Get the uh...” Ron blinked, trying to remember how sentences ended. “Window. Blinds, I mean. I’ll lock the door. Yes. Good idea.”

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, shutting the blinds while watching Ron lock the door and check it three times before looking left and right out of the window in it and finally, pulling the blinds down on that too. 

“Me? Fine. Do you think she knows?” Ron asked, eying the door one last time before sitting down.

Harry shook his head. “She’d tell us if she did.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ron agreed. He’d never seen Hermione keep anything back, especially knowledge and especially not from them. “Sorry, I panicked. I wasn’t expecting her to... anyway, we better hurry, she’ll probably be back soon.”

“It’s alright, keeping this from Hermione, isn’t it?” Harry asked, moving forward in his seat, almost as close as Hermione had been. Only with Harry, it wasn’t all flustered butterflies and cold sweat. He wasn’t aware if he swallowed too much or if his skin caught aflame. It was so much easier to just occupy the same space as him, without worrying what he thought. He couldn’t imagine sharing this with her, not because he didn’t like her. But because he did like her. And she’d freak out. He was fairly certain of that. He could imagine her shocked face, her wide eyes, her hitting him repeatedly with a book on normal teenage relationships.

“Nah, she wouldn’t get it anyway,” Ron said, getting rid of the last of his thoughts about her along with the sweat on his palms, rubbing them against the knees of his jeans.

Harry nodded, checking his watch. “I’d say we’ve got five minutes. Race you?”

Ron laughed, he’d never unzipped a pair of jeans faster. “You’re on.”

He had to admit, it lacked some of the showmanship that their previous games had but the determination set in Harry’s eyes as he wrapped his hand around his cock was more than enough to make up for it.

Somewhere along the line, Ron edged forward to meet him. Not intentionally, he didn’t even realise he’d moved until one of his knees knocked against Harry’s. He smiled apologetically but Harry just nudged him back, like they were passing notes under the table. Letting his knee rest where it was, he put more pressure into his fingertips, feeling the silky skin drag over the head, watching Harry do the same but slightly different, sliding his fingers slower over the ridge before speeding back up on the downward stroke. Ron frowned in concentration, mimicking it before giving up entirely and going as fast as the friction between his palm and his cock allowed him, which wasn’t as fast as he’d have liked, given their time constraints. 

Despite Ron’s valiant effort, Harry won. He put it down to his mind psyching him out. Then he put it down to Hermione confusing him. Then he was content to admit Harry was quicker which he could defend by saying he’d last longer.

He’d been so focused on coming that he didn’t realise until he pushed his jeans a bit further down his hips the twin pair of white lines on his left thigh. As they caught his eye, Harry noticed them too.

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “Should have moved back.”

Ron’s breath stuttered, getting caught in his throat as he came, not entirely accidentally catching the hem of Harry’s t-shirt in return. He wanted to laugh but simply catching his breath was an effort, the intensity of his orgasm still echoing through him.

“Yeah, you should have look,” Ron agreed sleepily, reaching out to catch the worst of the come on Harry’s top, wiping it on his other leg, giving himself matching stains. “Good thing we’re supposed to be getting changed, eh?”

Harry laughed, kicking him lightly in the shin to draw his attention back to their predicament. “Yeah. We’ve only got about sixty seconds left, come on.”

Though he agreed, Ron couldn’t quite bring himself to move yet. What if in sixty seconds, Hermione barged through the door and saw them like this? What if she wasn’t all that appalled? What if she’d been hiding in the next compartment, listening through the wall and getting herself off at the same-

“Ron!” Harry reached out and shook his shoulder. “I draw the line at undressing you. Come on!”

Ron nodded, shaking himself, dragging himself up and pulling his jeans off. He didn’t know why that would be the line Harry drew, it wasn’t like they didn’t get ready for bed together every night for nine months of the year but he didn’t push it. They were already pushing enough with this new sport of theirs. And God, what a push that was. He’d risked a lot for a wank before. Parents walking in, Fred and George taking the piss out of him, Neville nearly catching him in the Common Room while he was sleepwalking. But this, with Harry, where anybody, not just his daydream of Hermione, could actually catch them but not only that, catch them together. Fuck, even though he’d just come, he had to fight down the urge to do it all over again.

“Thanks for... y’know, doing it now,” Ron said, to summarise the mess of his mind.

Harry shrugged with the hint of a smile, the one he wore when he was about to do something that would get them all into trouble. “Actually, it was kind of great like that, don’t you think?”

“Right?” Ron agreed, yanking his robes into place. “Great. Yeah.”

“Are you decent yet?” Hermione’s voice called through the door.

“God, she’s bloody early!” Ron whispered, stuffing his dirty clothes into his trunk and trying to compose himself while Harry approached the door, waiting for the nod to open it.

“Honestly you two, I’ve never known anybody to spend so long getting dressed.” She rolled her eyes but sat down without further comment on their activities. “As I was saying to Ginny, we all need to maximise our time management this year, we’ve lost so much time over the summer what with the Quiddich World Cup and all that horrible dark mark business, we’re all going to...”

Hermione kept talking, her voice like waves crashing on a cliff face, constant and harsh but oddly soothing at the same time. Resting his head against the window, Ron smiled over to Harry. They’d gotten away with it.


	5. Chapter 5

Ron sat at the breakfast table seething. Not only had Harry not trusted him but as Ron’s pride and frankly, hurt feelings, would not let him talk to Harry, he couldn’t talk to him about _Richard_ either. And in some twisted way, being by himself didn’t work anymore. He couldn’t come. It just wasn’t right.

He waited until Hedwig dropped the note in Harry’s lap before he stopped openly glaring at him from down the table. It had taken a lot to write that note, _I’m not talking to you but Richard will_. If Harry didn’t agree... or worse, if he used this to win him back, Ron was just about ready to deck him. Sexual frustration really was a bitch, that was for sure.

A few hours later, he ascended the stairs to their dormitory. Everyone else was out, he made sure of it and he was late, so if Harry wasn’t there either, he wouldn’t look like a tit for waiting for him. But he was there, leaning casually against a bed post when Ron walked in.

“Ron, I didn’t-” Harry started but Ron shook his head, pulling at his tie.

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “This isn’t about that, remember?”

“Fine,” Harry said, pulling at his own tie with the same aggression.

“Fine,” Ron echoed, undoing the buttons on his shirt so fast, he swore he saw one of them ping off and hit the floor.

“Good,” Harry said, leaving his own shirt and reaching instead for his trousers.

Ron took a deep breath. Maybe it was just because it had been a while, what with them not speaking but he’d never been so turned on in his life. “Good!”

Dropping his shirt, he took a few steps forward, thinking for a moment, what would happen if this became something else. Anger ran like fire through his veins, a distant memory of friendship making him reach for the collar of Harry’s shirt rather than actually touching him. Scrunching the stiff white material in his fist, he pulled Harry as close as he dared, stopping just before their foreheads touched. No matter how frustrated he felt, he was still Harry, he was still his best friend. It wasn’t like that, not really.

“Go on then,” Harry said, breaking the tension. “This is at your request, after all.”

“You first,” Ron demanded, even though he was already painfully hard and dying to do something about it. But he couldn’t break first. He couldn’t give in to Harry, not when he was still so mad at him. It had to be the other way around.

Harry shrugged, as though it made no difference to him. Perhaps it didn’t. 

“I didn’t put my name-” Harry tried again.

“Please don’t,” Ron said, clinging onto his collar to stop himself turning and fleeing. “Just... this.”

Harry gave him a look that meant he’s got it arse backwards, that they can’t talk about it but they can watch each other wank but to his credit, he didn’t say another word about it. He silently grasped his cock, slowly stroking as if to drag it out for as long as possible. Ron watched as he got closer, unable to stop the inevitable. He felt the sweat on the back of his neck through his shirt. He stared defiantly into his eyes as he came, covering Ron’s trousers where they was barely more than a few inches between them. Just enough room to do what needed to be done. Ron breathed heavily, still getting the rush out of it even though he’d barely moved. The same feeling twisted inside as it always did, that he shouldn’t be seeing this but as he was, it meant they were still closer than any other friends. That they trusted each other with this made them best friends, beyond question. So why hadn’t Harry trusted him with his plan for the Triwizard Tournament? Why had he chosen to do this alone, without him?

For the first time, he felt cold and empty as he came, untouched, purely from the sheer overwhelming need to share such a closeness with Harry again. It still wasn’t right. It still wasn’t them.

“What about you?” Harry asked, leaning back against the bedpost again as Ron let go of his shirt.

Ron turned away, picking his own shirt and tie up. The wet spot on his trousers was nothing compared to the mess Harry had made of them, he wasn’t surprised Harry hadn’t noticed it. He didn’t risk saying anything in case he said what he was thinking. Why didn’t Harry need him as much as he needed Harry?


	6. Chapter 6

Even Ron had to admit, it was a sorry state of affairs when they were the first two back to the dorm after the Yule Ball.

"Can you believe _she_ sent _me_ to bed? I mean, I know she's upset and all but she sent me to bed!" Ron complained, secretly thankful he could get out of his blasted robes even quicker than he'd expected.

"I know, Ron, she sent me to bed to," Harry agreed, shrugging off his sleek black robes.

Ron frowned, it simply wasn't fair, any of this. The robes. The dancing. The twins. Krum. He felt just about ready to deck the universe one.

"She didn't send Richard to bed though, did she?" Harry glanced up at him, hands already at his zipper like the thought had only occurred to him mid-action.

Ron sighed happily, some of the tension leaving him already. "I thought you'd never ask."

It was the first time either of them had brought it up since _that_ time. It had been a lot for Ron to swallow down by apologising and admitting he was wrong, he couldn't apologise for leaving Harry like he had, dragging their game into muddy waters, clouded by his hurt feelings. He hadn't dared ask if Harry still wanted to do it for fear he'd say no.

"Quick then, before the others get back," Harry said glancing towards the window and the sounds of the winding down ball.

"Wait, let me get this thing off," Ron said, brutally pulling the robes off and more than half hoping they'd rip in the process.

"I don't know, I think they look better on you than they would have on your great Aunt Tessie," Harry joked, stripping off the last if his robes.

"Not as good as yours would have."

"I don't think mine would have fitted her, to be honest."

"Harry," Ron said, trying not to laugh even though the thought of his aunt trying to squeeze in Harry's new, modern robes was a frankly sobering thought and not one that helped him get in the mood. "Focus, they'll be back soon. Neville's way past his bedtime, for sure."

Harry nodded, pushing his underwear off his hips and down over his knees until they hit the floor of their own accord. Ron was certain that wasn't what he'd meant. They'd never taken it that far before. There'd always been jeans or pyjamas or something but now, Jesus Crikey, he was naked. And hard. And that was an entirely new combination Ron wasn't sure he was ready for.

"Yes, right," Ron muttered to himself as he pushed his own pants down to match. "As you were."

Harry sat down on his bed but Ron stayed standing, leaning against the bedpost that Harry had abandoned. Fingers teasing down his chest, he got used to the feeling again. The performance of it. He took in Harry, copying his hesitation with a good natured smirk. Ron rolled his eyes in return and went for it, trying to forget the time that had gone before, the wasted weeks spent dancing around their falling out.

“Fleur looked nice,” Harry said uncertainly. It was the first time they’d spoken within the confines of their game. Ron was sure it was breaking the rules. Especially to talk about Fleur. Though she had. All silver and blonde and ethereal. Altogether too good to be real. Certainly too good for him. He frowned, he’d spent many a night lying awake hard at the mere thought of her name but now... she just didn’t hold the same sway over him. Perhaps it was the screaming. It was hard to scream at a woman and still fantasise about shagging them.

“So did Cho,” Ron said back, hoping to send Harry into the same web of confusion that he was in. She had been silver too but in a different way. But Harry just nodded thoughtfully.

“Lucky I wasn’t chosen really, what with her and Fleur and Hermione, I would have tripped over one of them, for sure,” Ron said distractedly, not sure if he meant literally or figuratively. He was having a hard time keeping up with his own hormones, especially as he got close.

“I very nearly did,” Harry admitted, voice strained but a laugh on his lips.

“Don’t you dare, you came first last time,” Ron said quickly, without thinking. He wasn’t even aware he’d been keeping score but now he’d said it, a determination steeled itself inside him. If he was going to make a tit of himself, he may as well commit to it. “And the time before that.”

“Be my guest,” Harry said, slowing, watching as Ron sped up, thinking of every girl he’d seen that night, in their sparkly, tight fitting dresses. It wasn’t long before his mind settled and his body gave in, his teeth set to stop himself from saying anything aloud about pink frills and tightly wound, sleek brown hair.

He looked over at Harry still waiting for him to give his permission for him to follow. It was quite a drunk feeling to nod at him and watch him come like he’d only been waiting for his word.


	7. Chapter 7

The months passed, running into the next year and it become normalcy. Locked in empty classrooms, snatching a moment in the dorms, creeping down into the common room. By comparison, hiding away in Grimmauld Place while the Order held their meetings was practically easy. It made returning to Hogwarts all the harder. That was until, of course, Neville discovered the Room of Requirement.

Ron paced backwards and forwards, trying not to blush to his roots as he thought as loudly and decisively as he could, _I need a place to wank with my mate_ , over and over. He was already hard by the time the door started to materialise, darting quickly inside as though everybody else in the castle could read his thoughts.

Inside was everything a teenage boy could dream of. Muggle porn, moving pictures of witches and wizards that could bend to whatever the viewer desired off them, portraits that would talk dirty to each other, lube, condoms, sex toys and an abundance of tissues. Ron was pretty sure he’d discovered heaven and he wasted no time in dragging Harry out of bed to show him. They passed another good year finding out all the aptly named Come and Go Room had to offer them. It was bloody brilliant.

A note landed in Ron’s lap, so close after Christmas, he thought it might be a belated card from one of his relatives, the majority of whom managed to lose interest by the fourth or fifth brother but as he glanced at the front, he realised it wasn’t for him, it was for _Won-Won_. He opened it with a sinking stomach before sighing in relief. _Will Lav-Lav let Richard out to play?_

He glared up at Harry, who was barely concealing a laugh, leaving Hermione looking completely and utterly baffled between the two of them.

“What now?” she asked as Ron scribbled a note on the end of the letter. _Won-Won can fuck off. Ron, however, will be in the Room of Requirement at 2am._

“Nothing, Harry’s just being a _dick_ ,” he answered through clenched teeth though he couldn’t really bring himself to be angry.

Dutifully, at 1:59am, Ron paced outside the Room of Requirement, his only though being _Harry_ where his mind was just as tired as his body. The Room got it though; it always does with its slightly disturbing way to invade the thoughts that pass by it. Ron wondered in passing just how many secrets it knew and who else had been dragged in here under similar circumstances. A part of him was glad Lavender hadn’t thought of it yet.

When he stepped through the door, Harry had already started without him. He frowned, palming his own erection as if to remind Harry of the terms of the game. “That’s cheating.”

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” Harry admits, not smiling at the inadvertent pun like Ron did. He meant it. Even though he was sodding early.

“What do you mean? I said I would, didn’t I?” Ron said, only a little defensive because in fairness, he had been a bit faux-pissed off earlier about the whole _Won-Won_ thing.

“I don’t know, you have Lavender now...” Harry trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. _...To wank you off whenever you want_.

“Yeah but that’s not the same though, I mean, you had Cho and we still...” Ron said, following Harry’s habit of leaving the best bits unsaid. That was sort of their thing, lately. Especially with everything else going on, Harry’s obsession with Draco and that map and Hermione’s knack for knowing exactly when to interrupt them like she just _knew_. Not that she was talking to him much at all these days. It was almost like she’d stopped noticing what he did or caring what him and Harry were talking about. It should be a relief but actually, it was worse.

Ron sighed, sitting down across from Harry and clinging onto the last little bit of arousal he had left, he took himself in hand. Slowly, surely, matching Harry’s pace. It wasn’t about winning or losing, trying to come first or seeing who could last the longest. It was about proving, no matter who he was dating or what he was doing, there was nothing more important to him than the two of them. Harry and Hermione. And so long as Hermione wouldn’t so much as look at him, there was no danger of anything getting in the way off this.

When Harry came, it was almost more of a relief than his own orgasm. He leaned back in the chair, fingers dragging even slower, really basking in the feel of it, in Harry’s gaze. He smiled to himself, finally realising that this was better than all things he’d done with Lavender combined. “Besides, I was thinking of breaking up with her anyway.”


	8. Chapter 8

The locket felt heavy as it left his neck but the weight it held left his shoulders feeling a little lighter. Hermione frowned as she placed it around her neck. He knew it meant her shoulders felt a little heavier but she didn’t let him offer to take it back. “Get some rest, both of you. I’ll keep watch.”

Ron nodded, watching as she ducked out of the tent and into the cold night air. He wished she’d let him take it more but then, it seemed to make him feel the worst of them all. Jealous. Angry. Frustrated they didn’t have a path to follow or a destination in mind. And just plain _frustrated_. He’d never had to share such a small space with a girl before. Not that Hermione was difficult to live with, it was just, well, difficult living with her. Still, Ron thought to himself, he’d rather be here with them than anywhere else with anyone else.

He glanced over to where Harry was sitting, leafing through the pages of Hermione’s book. His knee was jittery, toe bouncing on the floor impatiently and his fingers were tapping on the table so unevenly that it set Ron’s teeth on edge even though he knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault. They were all stressed. The wizarding world had gone to shit and that was usually Harry’s cue to step forward and save it but there was nothing they could do. Ron felt an echo of his own frustration shudder through Harry as he turned the pages without reading them. He was just doing it for the sake of doing something.

“Come on,” Ron said, walking over to the table and closing the book. “Leave that a moment and we’ll go see what Richard has to say on the matter.”

Harry smiled but his laugh was more a sigh. “We don’t have time.”

“Harry, all we have is time and not a lot else to do with it,” Ron countered, trying to remember the last time Harry had slept or eaten or done anything for himself that wasn’t just a cat nap or a hastily made sandwich or something else not really enjoyed because they didn’t have time.

“Ron...” Harry said, sigh turning to outright stubbornness.

“Hermione’s got the locket and she’s taken first watch, this is as good as it’s been for a long time,” Ron said, his own stubbornness taking hold. “It’s probably as good as it’ll be for a long time to come so just... take a moment, please.”

Harry looked him up and down, seemingly finding something in his expression or his bearing that convinced him that that’s what they both really needed, a moment. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s... I get it, I do. I just think we should both let go for a bit,” Ron admitted. In his heart, he knew it was just as much about him needing to let go but he couldn’t say that out loud without saying just how bad it was getting. 

“I know.” Harry pushed the bench away from the table to let Ron in beside him and set the book aside. “I don’t know what I’d do without you and Hermione. Go mad, probably.”

Ron swallowed, looking down at the table guiltily. He wished there was a way they could comfort her like they could each other but how could they even start to explain it? He couldn’t even explain that he felt things for her that were all together more scary than half the things the locket made him feel. He couldn’t say it was alright that he wanked with Harry because honestly, he thought about her every time. 

“We’ll cook her dinner or something,” he said to make himself feel better for the fact she was outside, in the cold so that they could do this. Well, so they could _rest_.

“I could even make myself scarce,” Harry suggested, smiling properly for the first time in days, weeks probably.

“Shut up,” Ron said, returning the smile and reaching for the belt on his jeans. 

“She could wear that red dress again,” Harry said, hand still tapping on his table but slower, more idly.

“Very funny but this is just us, remember,” Ron promised. He couldn’t do the same to Harry, he couldn’t tease him about his taste in women or say anything sexual because he’d picked the one girl Ron couldn’t tease him about without having to obliviate himself afterwards to get rid of the mental pictures of Harry and his sister. It was just easier to pretend they existed in this bubble and the thoughts and fantasies that got them off in a whole different, impenetrable bubble that never, ever needed to be poked.

“You could always make me dinner instead if that’s how you feel,” Harry remarked, taking the hint and changing teasing tactics.

“Only if you wear the red dress,” Ron said back, far happier to imagine that scenario than Harry thinking about his sister or Harry thinking about him thinking about Hermione who probably thought they were sleeping.

“Deal,” Harry agreed, taking himself in hand as though to seal their bargain.

It was so commonplace now, Ron had stopped being startled every time Harry got his cock out. He’d even become somewhat nonchalant about getting his own out but it had been a while and though the magic that protected their tent kept them hidden from the world, it didn’t keep them hidden from Hermione’s impeccable hearing and though he told himself they’d done this a hundred times before, it still made his heart race in his chest as he wrapped his own hand tentatively around the base of his cock and slid it upwards, a master at making himself come easily or dragging it out for what had sometimes been hours on end.

Today was a time for taking it slow, for getting the best out of the time they had while they had it. But at the back of his mind, he knew it still wouldn’t long enough or good enough to stop the nightmare he had about Harry and Hermione choosing each other over him next time he fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Ron flicked the deluminator open and closed like he’d seen muggles do with lighters. It was clichéd and cheesy but he honestly felt like every time he did it, it might make him _feel_ something, some light return to him but in reality, it just left him numb in the dim light and numb in the pitch black, alternating with every flick of the deluminator’s cap.

He shouldn’t have left them. He’d known that since the moment he’d done it. It was like a fog had both lifted and come down heavier than before. Now he could see clearly but he couldn’t see them at all. He could picture them though, without him. And it wasn’t the jealous fevered thoughts he’d had before. Just daydreams, really, like he used to have imagining all the Gryffindor chasers in the changing rooms back when he’d still been at school. It was strange; he couldn’t imagine Angelica, Angelina or Katie now, even if he wanted to. All he could think about was Harry putting up the tent, Hermione casting her cloaking spells, Harry cooking that dinner they’d promised her, Hermione putting aside her books and her theories to enjoy it. He didn’t resent it, it was his fault they were alone without him but he couldn’t help but wish he was there with them still, even if it meant wearing the locket all the time.

Ron closed the cap on the deluminator, leaving himself in darkness. Closing his eyes, they were more vivid to him than the room around him had been. Hermione sleeping peacefully for once, not tossing and turning or waking up suddenly to scribble down notes before rolling over and going back to sleep. In turn, he could see Harry sleeping fitfully, see the sheets pulled tight around his body and it was impossible not to notice how painfully hard he looked under them.

He shifted, pretending he was getting comfortable but really, the sight was getting to him, making him half hard by proxy. “Wake up, Harry.”

But there was no waking him. Chances were it was all in Ron’s head anyway but still, he couldn’t ignore what wasn’t in his head. His own predicament. Normally, it wasn’t worth bothering with without Harry but he couldn’t shake the picture he had of him, the connection he inexplicably felt. It was almost as if Harry was there with him, he just didn’t know it.

Slipping his hand under the covers, just like the first time, he touched himself listening for even the slightest hint that Harry was waking up but this time, wishing he would. It was self-indulgent, both his dream and his slow, lazy movements. Almost as if he could drag it out long enough, Harry might wake up naturally. But he didn’t. Instead, as Ron got closer and closer, Harry slept all the more restlessly, twisting in the sheets and rolling his hips up, almost as though he could feel every touch, every wrangled drop of pleasure until with Ron sated, he settled and slept as soundly as Hermione did.

By now he was sure he was dreaming, of Hermione’s smooth, still face whispering his name in her sleep. It was too good to believe, really. The unnaturally glow all around him just about confirmed it.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione was the first to drift back to the castle, to comfort those who had lost family and friends, to help clear up the wreckage. Ron knew he should go back to but there were things back there that he couldn’t think about yet. Things he didn’t ever want to think about. So he just stood in silence on the bridge, next to Harry, looking over at the lake. Without Hermione there to hold both their hands, there was a gap between them but like the silence, it was comfortable until it wasn’t.

“So Hermione then?” Harry asked, looking at him sideways, a grin on his face that said he’d known all along. He probably had.

“Yeah,” Ron said, defiantly not blushing or rising to the bait. “I mean, it’s early days and all that...”

“Early days? Ron, it’s been years,” Harry leaned against one of the remaining chunks of wall. “I guess that means we can put Richard to bed?”

Ron frowned. He knew they should, that normal people didn’t wank with their mates when they had proper girlfriends but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all, the three of them had never exactly been the paradigm of normal. “Nah, it’ll be fine.”

“And Ginny?”

“You tell my sister what we do, I’ll throw you in this lake. Chosen one or not,” Ron said, dodging the real questions hidden in those two words. “It’s just something we do, it’s just us. If it were... y’know, something _else_ , something like _that_...” he gave Harry a shrug to brush over the idea that it could have been more. “Then yeah, it’d be a good idea to stop but... Look, would we stop playing Quiddich together? Would you stop coming around for Christmas? It’s just another thing like that.”

Harry nodded, agreeing. “Put a lot of thought into it, have you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Ron admitted. “As you say... it’s been years.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, nodding again.

Staring down into the lake, at his reflection, Ron realised just how many years. Not just for how long they’d been friends with Richard, but how long they’d been friends. It had gone so quickly, between impending death and snatched moments of quiet yet in the same way, it felt like it had been all his life.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asked quietly, flicking a wayward bit of stone into the water, breaking his reflection both literally and figuratively.

“I can’t, not yet,” Ron said, nails digging into the stone. Forcing his hand to stop shaking, he took it off the bridge and found Harry’s hand with his. “Don’t even think about saying anything. If it’s fine for Hermione to do it...”

Harry squeezed his hand tight unlike Hermione, almost painfully hard but it was good, grounding. “Really, you thought this would be the line? Seriously?”

“Good point,” Ron laughed, he couldn’t help it but it just struggled up out of him. But on its way, it opened the door to everything else he was keeping locked down. He couldn’t hide from it any longer, it was still there waiting for him. Fear, grief, horrible, clawing, agonising pain worse than anything he’d ever felt. All he was doing was putting it off. “Come on, let’s get back.”


	11. Chapter 11

Ron looked at Harry as the train pulled away. It was still hard to come back here and not get on the train themselves, holed up in a compartment eating sweets and chatting and... and yeah, alright, rushing through a quick wank while they got changed. What was stranger was pushing through the crowd, knowing that Harry would be there somewhere and in all the rush and chaos, he might get a chance to lean in a whisper a name he’d not spoken in months. But between the kids leaving and the ones staying behind, he found himself between Hermione and Hugo, glancing meaningfully at the back of Harry’s head as the train cloaked them all in steam for a few seconds. And then it was gone.

“Fancy lunch?” Ginny asked Hermione, slipping her free arm through Hermione’s, Hugo and Lily-Luna taking their other hands, leaving Harry and Ron to trail behind, their moment missed, their fates sealed by the prospect of overpriced deli sandwiches.

“God, yes, I am starving,” Hermione agreed, turning back to him and chucking him the car keys. “See you back home?”

Ron blinked for a moment, confused as they passed through the barrier and back into King’s Cross. “What?”

“Well, normally around this time, your non-existent cousin Richard comes calling,” Hermione explained. “We thought we’d try and get some shopping done while you and Harry... well, sort him out. Then I’ll get a lift back with Ginny.”

Ron quickly moved from confused to completely and utterly dumbstruck. Glancing at Harry, finding him looking just about as panicked as he felt, he tried to sound calm as he cleared his throat. “How do you know I don’t have a cousin Richard? I mean, I do, I have a cousin Richard.”

“No, we don’t, Ron,” Ginny said and Ron glared at Harry, as if for the first time realising the great big bloody flaw in their plan. He would have to be Ginny’s cousin too. Fuck.

“My sister,” Ron said under his breath. “You had to marry my bloody _sister_.”

“Don’t look at me, he’s your cousin,” Harry said back with a fake smile, all teeth and wide eyes.

“He’s, ah, a very distant cousin, like third cousin, twice removed?” Ron tried but he knew there was no getting out of it. “We do have a lot of cousins, maybe you missed him?”

“We know, Ron,” Hermione said, putting them out of their misery. “I figured it out... what, when we were fourteen? I always assumed you knew, given how on several occasions I’d actually make a point of leaving you to it. You really didn’t know?”

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione to Ginny in turn, unable to come up with a good response to any of them.

“And you’re alright with it?” Harry asked, reaching for Ginny’s hand.

“Oh yeah,” Ginny said with a wicked grin. “What do you think we do on girl’s night?”

Ron looked sharply back to Hermione, nearly straining his neck. “You said a bottle of wine and a chick fli- oh my giddy aunt.”

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry, pointedly skipping Ginny because that was a therapy session for another day. “Bloody Hell.”

“So,” Hermione continued, like the last five minutes hadn’t happened. “We’ll hit Oxford Street, you make Richard feel at home and we’ll meet back home at say, five? We can get a takeaway in if you like, get an early night?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, still struck a little dumb but clinging onto the car keys for dear life. “Alright then.”

“See you later,” Ginny said to Harry, leaning past Ron to kiss his cheek. “Have fun.”

Harry and Ron watched them leave before they looked at each other, trying to work out what in Merlin’s name had just happened. “Did they just...?”

“I think so,” Harry agreed.

“And we...?” 

“Yep.” Harry nodded.

“All along...?”

“Apparently so.”

“Come on then, it’s a nightmare to get out of London at this time of day,” Ron said, searching for the nearest exit.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


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